It Was Only Temporary
by Aya Diefair
Summary: Charlie always knew what he wanted to do after graduation. He always had a plan, but what was the harm in playing some professional quidditch on the side while he worked to fulfill his life's dream? — - Gift for Tippy-LaRoux.


**Prize for Word Sprint Wednesday July 11th, 2018**

 **Prompt:** Adult Charlie Weasley

 **Dedication:** Tippy-LaRoux (Kim)

 **Word Count:** (Per Google Docs) 1,000

* * *

Charlie always thought that he had a plan after he graduated Hogwarts. He wanted to work up close and personal with dragons ever since the scaled winged beasts captured his heart at a young age. Finding an egg that contained a rare dragon breed in the Forbidden Forest during his first year started it. Taking it to the kitchens furnace on Tonk's suggestion only to successfully hatch a Widowmaker sealed it.

Either way, hand raising the disabled dragon since its birth was not only reckless, it was a thrilling and challenging experience. Though the Widowmaker was taken to a sanctuary in Romania after Bill found it under the shed (the poor thing suffered a grave injury to its wing, rendering the creature flightless), he yearned to see Greyglas again. That was the plan; he wanted to live, care, and study dragons. That was his dream.

Deciding to join the quidditch team in his second year was more or less to pass the time. It was an exciting sport, and Charlie couldn't deny his adrenaline junkie side when dodging bludgers was the biggest risk in it. He tried out for a chaser position, thinking his speed on a broom would be adequate for it. Scoring goals while blurring by the posts was his specialty when playing against his brothers, after all.

What Charlie didn't anticipate was the captain suggesting he try the seeker position when he saw how agile he moved and acute his quaffle tracking was. It fit him like a glove. His quick reflexes and keen eyes made the task look easy, and he still got to dodge the terrifying bludgers while whizzing around the pitch chasing the snitch.

Charlie played all six years, finding that flying helped him feel closer to the gift of flight dragons bore. He couldn't wait to graduate and jump into the world of dragons as soon as he could, it was his dream.

He didn't anticipate the coaches and captains of the big leagues to attend the seasons quidditch matches during Charlie's seventh year. They were looking for young, fresh blood for their teams, and were invited to observe the players first hand.

"Ya dolt, I _told_ you there were going to be perks to the sport this year," Tonks teased Charlie after their house's match.

He gave her a playful shove with his shoulder. "Well I didn't know you meant _the pros._ "

"Not like it matters anyway," Tonk's continued, managing to keep her balance after bracing for the shove. "You're not interested in going pro, right?"

"Yeah, well I still don't want to screw up while they're watching!" Charlie retorted. "I might need an alternative job if things fall through at the Ministry."

Tonks rolled her eyes at the joke, knowing full well that Charlie was not going to allow some stuffy old wizard behind a desk stop him from jumping straight into a dragon's nest right out of school.

It was probably for the best that he didn't learn about it until the end of the school year. It kept his nerves in check during the games, until the final match against Slytherin. He was an emotional wreck and nearly lost the match if it weren't for a bludger "accidently" flying for them. Charlie managed to veer away, leaving the Slytherin seeker behind as he spiraled to the ground from a splintered broomstick handle while he stole the snitch right out from under her.

This hadn't been the plan, going pro for quidditch. Yet Charlie couldn't help himself but fall for the pitch from the Chudley Cannons coach and captain. It was only a two year contract, he could manage playing a sport while working part time in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to get his foot in the door. If he played his cards right, he could get an apprenticeship as a dragon wrangler as soon as the contract expired.

It was only temporary.

It was just a job.

His youngest brother Ron loved him for signing the contract, and Charlie made sure to give him all the free merchandise he was handed the second he donned the vibrant orange uniform on the first day of training.

"Maybe the Cannon's will finally have a chance with you on the team!" Ron gushed, clearly over the moon about the news.

His mother seemed relieved. Chasing after a small golden ball while dodging bludgers seemed to be safer in her eyes than handling dragons. "We're so proud of you, dear."

Charlie didn't mind the diligent practices and workout routines. He was able to get a part-time position at the Ministry, and despite the busy schedule, he managed to fall into a steady routine. It was entertaining, it kept him occupied, but he wasn't going to have a fun game he was getting paid to play have him lose sight of his true passion.

Naturally, Charlie's entire family filled the stands for his first official game against the Wigtown Wanderers. Even Tonks and her parents were there to spectate his debut as a professional quidditch player. He was quite nervous once he stepped out onto the field, it all felt surreal to him following a different path than he anticipated. Charlie was one of the youngest players in the league that year at almost nineteen years old, and he felt like he had something to prove to the wizarding world.

He danced with the bludgers as he weaved around the pitch, catching sight of the snitch after only a half-hour of gameplay. Charlie sped forward, the other seeker drafting close behind him. The beaters in the league were more aggressive than the Slytherin's team, and it usually made him wary of their locations at all times.

The snitch was in reach, Charlie focused everything he had on catching it. The bludger had come from nowhere. Charlie only remembered that he had the snitch in hand before the world went suddenly dark.

It was only supposed to be temporary.


End file.
